Just a Crush
by plenoptic
Summary: Optimus isn't the only mech who's sweet on Elita One. Beecentric! oneshot. OptimusxElita, implied BeexCee.


**Just a Crush**

_Plenoptic_

* * *

For a long time, Bumblebee tried not to feel it.

He knew in the core of his spark that it was wrong. Optimus Prime was his commander, his leader, and more than anything, he was Bumblebee's friend. Bee loved Optimus, adored and looked up to him, and hated the thought of doing anything to hurt him.

But for all the guilt it brought him, Bumblebee couldn't help but love her.

His troubled musings brought him to the shared quarters of the Autobots' fiercest and most terrifying warriors, the sparkbonded Ironhide and Chromia. Bumblebee had never been intimidated by either; for as long as he could remember, Ironhide had been his guardian and Chromia more like a mother to him than any other femme. He'd relied on them since early sparklinghood, and though he knew he was approaching the age where he'd have to start standing on his own, he couldn't help but want their counsel…especially on matters of the spark.

"Morning, Bee," Chromia greeted him cheerfully after opening the door for him. "Did Ironhide miss a meeting or something?"

"Nope," Bumblebee replied, shaking his head, trying his best to sound more cheerful than he felt. "I wanted to ask him something. Is he around?"

"Not this second, no—last I saw him he was headed down to the range with Warpath and Hound. Probably still there, but I wouldn't recommend interrupting him. He's been in a foul mood since the Decepticons surprised us last orn."

"I see…" Bumblebee fell silent for a moment, observing his own jittery feet, contemplating. "Then, could you tell me where Elita is?"

Chromia's smile faltered at once, and she cocked her head to the side. "Bee, didn't you hear…?"

Feeling his spark drop, Bee blinked at her. "Hear what?"

The femme sighed, reaching out to take one of his hands in between both of her own. For all of her might and prowess on the field, it was always surprising to Bee how _small_ Chromia was. "Bumblebee, that last battle was a hard one. Elita was on the front lines. She's in med bay…"

Bumblebee's blue optics widened, his intakes hitching loudly and his engine kicking into higher gear. He felt like he'd been slapped—Pit to that, shot. Blown to the moons and back by Megatron's fusion cannon. Horrified, he stumbled back a few steps, drawing himself from Chromia's grasp with a croaked "_No_."

"Bee—"Chromia began quickly, but he turned tail and ran, sprinting at full speed down the hallway and rounding the corner before folding into his vehicle mode. Kicking it up to his highest gear, he tore through the base, knocking others out of the way without apology, even ignoring Prowl when the tactician attempted to remind the wayward scout about the speed limits in the halls.

Intakes heaving by the time he reached the med bay, Bumblebee hammered in his access code and charged through the double blast doors, skidding to a halt and whirling around, panting. Ratchet looked up from his work bench nearby, one optic ridge arching slowly at the sight of the panicked scout.

"Need something, Bee?" the medic inquired, stepping around his bench to clasp the little bot firmly by both shoulders, turning him around. "You look like you've just seen Unicron himself."

"Elita," Bumblebee gasped, shaking off Ratchet's grasp. "Where's Elita?"

"Resting," Ratchet replied flatly, frowning. "Why?"

"Is she hurt? What's wrong with her?"

"She sustained damage during the last encounter with the Decepticons and is recuperating right now," Ratchet answered, a little irritated and quite exasperated. "Bee, what's the problem? Bots wind up in the med bay all the time."

"Not Elita!" Bumblebee cried frantically, flailing his arms. Ratchet leaned away, scowling, to avoid being smacked. "Why aren't you with her? Where is she, Ratchet?"

"Back ward," the medic responded. "But, Bumblebee—hey!" he snapped, stomping a foot in irritation when Bee sidestepped him and took off once more. "This is a medical bay, dammit! Keep it down, youngling!" Grumbling, he shook his head, muttering about young bots these days, and returned to his bench.

Bumblebee came to a halt outside the furthest door down, finally finding Elita's spark signature on the other side. He paused for a moment to gather himself, attempting to calm his racing spark, before pushing the door open quietly.

The Femme Commander of the Autobot forces, her normally brilliant red armor dull and flaking off in several places, was curled up on her side upon the berth, deep in recharge, one small hand being gently cradled by that of her massive lover, Optimus Prime. The Autobot Commander was characteristically quiet, caressing the back of her tiny hand with his thumb, cobalt optics dim as he gazed down at her.

Hearing the scout enter, Prime lifted his head, antennae straightening in surprise when he identified the visitor. "Bumblebee? What are you doing here?"

Bumblebee blinked dumbly, bewildered. "Oh. I…Optimus. Of course you'd be here. Um…" he faltered, optic ridges furrowing into a frown. "I'm not sure what I'm doing here, actually. I just…Chromia told me that Elita was hurt, and I…"

Optimus's expression warmed behind his mask, and he indicated the seat on Elita's other side. Bumblebee mumbled a thanks before seating himself quietly, his spark tearing itself to pieces at Elita's condition.

"Sir, is Elita One…is she alright?"

"Not at the moment, but she'll be fine," Optimus responded, lifting his free hand to gently place it upon his beloved's helm, caressing the smooth metal tenderly. "She may appear fragile, but Elita One is much stronger than even I sometimes give her credit for." Prime cracked a grin, chuckling quietly. "It will take more than a Decepticon army to defeat her."

Bumblebee smiled, but his spark burned with envy at Optimus's closeness to the femme. He desperately wanted to stroke Elita's helm too, but even he knew better than to lay a hand on another male's femme. Even if Optimus and Elita weren't bonded yet, Elita belonged to the Autobot Commander, and every mech on base—single or otherwise—knew it very, very well.

"Is something the matter, Bumblebee?" Optimus asked, drawing the scout from his thoughts. "You seem troubled."

"No, no," Bumblebee replied hastily, shaking his head, burning under Optimus's unwavering gaze. "I'm just…I've never seen Elita One injured. It's startling, is all."

"Yes." Optimus's optics softened, and he returned his gaze to the slumbering femme beneath his loving fingertips. "It is…difficult…to see the strong fall. I know the feeling well. I am, unfortunately, used to seeing her injured, but the first time Elita cried in front of me, I was so stunned I couldn't even fathom how to comfort her."

Bumblebee stared, shocked. "Elita One cries?"

Prime laughed lightly, smiling at the scout. "Everyone cries sometimes, my young friend. Even Elita. This war has been cruel to all of us, and as Commander, Elita feels its sting very acutely." The mightiest mech on Cybertron fell silent for a time, releasing the small hand within his own to draw the thermal blankets up higher over his beloved's recharging form. Elita One mumbled softly, pushing her helm into the warm hand that rested upon it.

"I appreciate you coming, Bumblebee," Prime said at length. "You didn't have to."

"No, I did," Bumblebee replied quickly, fists tightening in his lap. "Elita One is wonderful. She's so kind…she comes to see me when I'm in med bay." Glancing up, embarrassed by Optimus's questioning gaze, he amended quickly, "And, um, she's the…well, she's your femme after all, and you're the Prime, so it's my duty as an Autobot to…to look after her. And things."

"…I see." Optimus smiled, watching his fidgeting protégé fondly. "Will you stay with her for a little while? I need to refuel."

"What?" Bumblebee squeaked, shrinking in his armor. "But, sir—leaving me alone with your femme, that's…"

"I'm sure it'll be alright," Optimus chuckled, getting to his feet and clapping Bumblebee on the shoulder. "I don't expect you'll attack her, Bumblebee. If she wakes, tell her I'll be returning shortly."

"Oh…um, okay…" Bumblebee swiveled in his chair to watch the Prime leave before turning back to the slumbering femme on the berth, gulping audibly. "Oh, Primus."

He hesitated before getting to his feet and circling around to the other side of the berth, leaning down to gaze in wonder upon her recharging face. Elita One always seemed to be in action to him. She was a creature of energy, and he didn't think he'd ever seen her calm or tranquil. She was always smiling or shouting, always switching from one end of the emotional spectrum to the other so fast he couldn't keep up. Even on the rare occasions when he spoke to her one-on-one, there was always something going on behind her optics, her processor constantly moving.

But she was still now. Still, quiet, her face expressionless and calm. There was such an aura of peace around her that Bumblebee felt lulled and content nearly to recharge. It both confused and frightened him that even when unconscious, Elita One held a profound power over him.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, leaning in to rest his chin on the berth. "I'm really sorry, Elita. If I were bigger or stronger like Optimus is, I could protect you. Maybe then you'd even like me back." He sighed, looking morosely up at her achingly beautiful face. "I'm sorry I couldn't keep you from getting hurt. I'm sorry that I'm the one that needs protecting. A mech should be able to take care of the femme he loves, you know?"

He sighed once more, sitting up and, despite his mech senses and processor telling him to resist, he gently took her hand in both of his. It was still warm from Optimus's touch, and that saddened Bumblebee more than anything else. Elita took in all of Optimus, from his spark to the simple warmth from his hands.

"I'm fighting a losing battle, I guess," he said quietly, releasing her and drawing his hand back into his lap. "I know you love Optimus. You always look so happy when you're with him, even when the fighting is really bad and you've been upset. All he has to do is hold your hand to cheer you up. Primus, I'd have to…geez, maybe I couldn't cheer you up at all. Maybe that's part of the reason you like him so much…"

Bumblebee chewed on his lower lip, glancing at the door and then back at Elita. As good as it felt to relieve his spark of such anxieties, he didn't want to be caught mid-emotional downpour when Optimus walked in or Elita awoke. His spark got the better of him, and with a shaking voice he continued.

"I mean, you even cried in front of Optimus. I didn't think anything got to you. I thought everything—battles, bullets, suffering—just sort of bounced off. That was naïve of me, though, I guess. I've been so busy worrying about getting you to notice me that I didn't even realize you were suffering."

Abruptly hit with resolution, Bumblebee jumped to his feet, reaching out to grab Eita's hand once more. "Then, here's what I'll do. I'm going to do my best, at everything—fighting and intelligence and all of that—and I'm going to become a really good mech. A really strong mech. I'll become such a great mech that you'll feel silly for choosing Optimus." Bee paused, reconsidering what he'd said, then burst into laughter, seating himself back down. "No, that's dumb, huh? Maybe I'll just be me and look for a femme who likes me the way I am."

He lapsed into silence, reaching out on occasion to gently pet Elita's hand, his spark considerably lighter with his feelings out. Even if she hadn't been awake to hear them…

"Bumblebee. For you."

The scout looked up, embarrassed to see Optimus extending a cube of energon to him. "Ah, no…I've already had my ration this orn…"

"We have surplus," Optimus replied, grasping Bee's hand and placing the cube in his palm. "I understand the need to conserve, but sometimes it is wiser to capitalize upon one's advantages. So here. As a thank-you for worrying about my intended."

Bumblebee blanched, nearly dropping the cube. "Your…intended, sir?" he squeaked out, getting out of the chair so Optimus could take his proper seat at Elita's side.

"Correct. I'm going to ask her to bond with me." Optimus paused, retracting his mask, but did not drink from his energon cube, staring absently down at his beloved. "Do you think it's a good match?"

"You're asking me?" Bumblebee asked weakly. "Maybe someone who knows you better…?"

"You know me as well as any other," Optimus replied simply. "You're young, but you're a smart bot, Bee. I trust your opinion."

The scout was silent, a little overwhelmed, honored beyond words that Optimus valued his input on such a momentous topic.

"Yeah," he said at length, nodding his head enthusiastically. "Yeah, sir, it's a good match. The best, even. I'm sure she'll be thrilled."

Optimus smiled, touched. "I hope so." Leaning back, he downed the energon cube in one swallow, tossing the cube into a nearby waste receptacle with easy accuracy before stretching widely. "Thank you, Bumblebee. I wasn't sure who to ask. But you've always been true to your spark, so if you feel that it will work, then I am reassured."

"You love each other," Bumblebee said simply, shrugging and offering a small smile. "It's not hard to see that."

Optimus grinned, and was about to reply when a low groan from the berth interrupted him. Looking down, he smiled and leaned in, taking the small hand that reached out for him blindly.

"There's my femme," he cooed tenderly, brushing his mouthplates over her forehead in a lingering kiss as Elita One slowly came online.

"Hey," she mumbled thickly, smiling weakly at the mech gazing down at her, shakily lifting a hand to trail her fingers lightly down his cheekplate.

"Hey yourself," he chuckled, catching her hand and cradling it to his face, gently kissing her palm. "You had me worried, dearest."

"How long have I been out…?"

"Some time. Although Ratchet has had you sedated for repairs." Peering down into her optics, he questioned, "Are you feeling alright? Does your helm hurt? I saw you get hit awfully hard…"

"Yeah, I feel okay. Tired…" She turned her head, squinting a little at the yellow mass nearby as he optics adjusted and refocused. "Oh! Bumblebee. Didn't expect to see you here." She smiled at him warmly, and he felt his spark do a little flip in his chest.

"I'm glad to see you're okay," he said quickly, covering the small pause that followed her words. "I heard you were hurt and came to check on you…"

"Thanks, Bee. I appreciate it," she said, reaching out, and he gingerly accepted the small hand he offered him. Though he'd been holding it scarcely two breems ago, the metal didn't carry his warmth. "You're a good little mech, you know? Just as you are."

He felt his faceplates grow hot, ducking his head. "I'll, um, go now. You two must want to be alone…"

"It would be boring in here anyway. I'm going back into recharge," Elita yawned, turning back onto her side and moving closer to the nearby mass of her lover. "Come and see me again, Bee, please?"

"Sure thing," he replied, smiling weakly, but didn't get up to leave until he was certain the lovers had optics only for one another.

"May I?" Prime requested softly, and Elita immediately slid herself to the other side of the berth, giving her mech ample room to climb in beside her. Purring, she snuggled into his chest as his arms folded around her, cradling her gently.

"I'm sorry, Lita," Optimus intoned, resting his chin on the top of her helm and gently thumbing her backplating. "I was unable to protect you, even though we were on the front together."

Elita smiled against his warm frame, gently kissing the base of his throat. "It's okay, Optimus. Don't get me wrong, I love having a big, strong soldier watching my back, but I can take care of myself, you know."

"I know that you are more than capable of warding off any danger that comes your way. You are a force to be reckoned with, my dear." Releasing a puff of air through his intakes, he tightened his grip, pulling her in closer. "At the same time, though, it is only natural for me to want to protect that which I hold most dear."

"You are beginning to squish that which you hold most dear," she retorted, poking an affectionate finger into his chest. "Honestly, Optimus, I love cuddling you, but you're a big mech and I'm still sore."

"I apologize," he chuckled, and she relaxed when his grip loosened.

"Don't let go, though," she mumbled, pressing her face into his chest, weariness overtaking her once more.

"Never," he soothed, pressing his mouthplates to the top of her helm.

They lay together in silence for a time, Elita slipping her arms around his waist to return his embrace, perfectly content to drift back into recharge in the cradle of his arms. Something nagged at the back of her processor, however, and at length she tilted her head upward, kissing the underside of his jaw lightly to get his attention.

"Bumblebee confessed to me," she said quietly, nearly laughing aloud at the look of cute, stunned surprise that crossed his handsome faceplates.

"_Bumblebee_ did? When?" he asked incredulously, easing her onto her back, mindful of her wounds, and propping himself up above her on one elbow.

"Just now." Trailing her fingertips down her proud mech's chest, Elita smiled faintly. "I was awake but pretended otherwise so he could get it all off his chest. He thinks that I'd like him if he were as big and strong as you are."

"…Oh." Prime fell silent for a moment, struggling to process this startling information. "That's rather unnerving. I wouldn't want to compete with Bumblebee…"

"I'm not choosing any other mech over you," she said flatly, patting his cheek and pouting. "I sort of like you a little bit."

"Be that as it may, I still don't like it very much," Optimus grumped. "I was under the impression that I'd scared off all of your other potential suitors. Besides," he went on, voice sidling down to a low purr as he dropped his mouth to her throat, "Bumblebee should know better than to lay claim to what is _mine_…"

"Speaking of which," she said wryly, struggling to resist the sweet pleasure of his lips on her bared neck. Optimus was silent for a moment, contemplating her words, and then his head jerked upwards in horror.

"If you heard that, then you heard what we discussed afterwards…"

"You know, I think I nodded off again after you came back in," Elita said innocently, tapping a finger to her chin. "I can't recall what happened after that…"

Optimus groaned, burying his face in her shoulder. "I meant to surprise you," he sighed, disappointed.

"Silly mech, if you didn't get a move on, I was going to tie you to your berth and do the job myself," she laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck and lovingly kissing the side of his helm. "When you propose, though, make sure it's so romantic it would make Primus swoon."

"Will do," Optimus chuckled, lifting his head and nuzzling his noseplates against hers. "I love you."

"Love you, too," she murmured tenderly, pulling him in closer and lacing her lips intimately with his. They kissed deeply for several breems, hopelessly engrossed in one another, before he embraced her once more and they lay again in silence…at least until Optimus broke it.

"You wouldn't choose Bumblebee, would you…?"

"_Optimus_."

"Sorry, sorry…my bad…"

* * *

Bumblebee sighed deeply, staring morosely into the contents of his pitifully small helping of high grade. The war had forced the entire base on strict rations, and though one could no longer get enough high grade for even a small buzz, many mechs and femmes still hung around the bar out of force of habit. Bumblebee himself wasn't much of a consumer of the stuff, but he couldn't remember ever feeling so glum.

That was it, he supposed. A crush was one thing, but he couldn't hope to compete if Optimus loved Elita One deeply enough to bond with her. Elita was his, and if she accepted his proposal, they'd be bound irrevocably and eternally. And happily, Bumblebee supposed, for he meant what he'd said to the Prime; they were a wonderful match, and obviously hopelessly enamored with one another. For vorns the femmes on base had spoken of the lovers with awe and longing in their voices, and finally Bumblebee understood why.

Steeling himself, he reflected on the resolution he'd made in the medical bay. He was going to be himself—he was going to be Bumblebee. He thought he was a pretty nice mech. He _knew_ he was a capable soldier. Surely there was a femme out there somewhere who would fall in love with him…

"Heya, Bee! Is this seat taken?"

Startled, he turned to see Arcee standing behind him, hands clasped behind her back, smiling prettily at him.

"You with anyone?" she asked innocently, and he shook his head dumbly. Without waiting for him to speak, Arcee sat down at his side, swiveling her chair to face him. "I haven't talked to you in a little while," she explained, shrugging one shoulder and smiling nervously. "You look down, Bee. Why are you here all by yourself?"

For a moment Bumblebee could only stare. He'd always thought Arcee was pretty—petite, charming, and full of laughter, many mechs found her attractive. He knew she'd been a frequent date of both Springer and Hotrod, yet for some reason it had never occurred to Bumblebee that he could be interested in her.

Primus. He was wrong. And at the moment, Arcee was looking at him in a way that very much reminded him of the look Elita often gave Optimus…

Smiling and ordering up another cube of high grade from the barkeep, Bumblebee leaned in closer to the pink femme, and they talked as the night melted away.

* * *

**This is late in coming, but Happy Holidays! I hope you're all spending time with family and friends and enjoying yourselves immensely.**


End file.
